


Revenge is a Dish Best Served Cold

by cadybug2023



Series: Gianna Richards [1]
Category: Spies Are Forever - Talkfine/Tin Can Brothers
Genre: M/M, i cried many times writing it, if i add any more tags itll give away spoilers, uhhhh this is sad
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-18
Updated: 2020-09-18
Packaged: 2021-03-08 02:09:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,531
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26528017
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cadybug2023/pseuds/cadybug2023
Summary: It's been a year since Owen Carvour's death. Agent Curt Mega was coping better than he thought he would. But when someone throws a wrench into his plans, hell breaks loose.
Relationships: Owen Carvour/Agent Curt Mega
Series: Gianna Richards [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1948321
Comments: 12
Kudos: 17





	Revenge is a Dish Best Served Cold

**Author's Note:**

> So I decided to be ~fancy~ and use page breaks??? Basically in between each portion there's a line, and then some disjointed dialogue. The dialogue doesn't go with the story, it's a flashback for our lovely mystery woman... Hopefully it'll make sense.

It had been almost a year since it had happened. Chimera’s plans were blown wide open and Owen Carvour was dead. Curt Mega, the man that killed him, was living as peaceful of a life as he could. He was a freelance agent now, so wherever life took him, he went. 

Of course, there were some things in life you just couldn’t leave behind. 

Curt had gotten over Owen a long time ago, sure, but the anniversary of his death- the second one- was coming around and he found himself drawn back to the cemetery where Owen’s grave was. He had been frequenting it for a few days, waiting for the aches in his chest to go away. As he was there, he noticed three things: 

One, an old man came just about as often as he did. He would sit on a bench feeding the birds, mumbling something about how “if Irene isn’t here to feed you bastards, I guess I have to.” 

Two, a woman about his age was also visiting the cemetery almost as frequent as him. She was shorter, and she always wore the same coat. Judging by how she held it around her, it didn’t do much to keep the cold out, but it must have had a sentimental value to it. Her hair was a light brown, the color of the caramel candies' one's mother would buy for them around Christmas. Her skin was a few shades darker, reminding Curt of Owen’s favorite liquor. 

Everything seemed to remind him of Owen these days. 

The third thing he noticed was that the woman never cried. She simply paced the outside edges of the cemetery, as if looking for someone. If someone walked past, her gaze was immediately on them, searching them for every detail one could drain from someone just on appearances. She did this to Curt a few times, too. Curt boiled it down to paranoia and precautions. Perhaps someone was buried here she knew; someone that died a violent death. If Curt were in what he thought were her shoes, he’d do the same. That is, until he figured out what was really going on. 

* * *

“Is he explicitly homosexual?” 

“Not sure, but we’ll find out.” 

“I believe in you, love.” 

“Thanks Gianna.” 

* * *

Curt rose from the bench he had chosen to sit on that day and began his walk home. He knew that the old man had already returned home, and that the woman would leave shortly after he did. The three of them had their little routine, and they all stuck to it. As soon as he crossed the gate, she would leave from the same place, heading in the opposite direction. He got a few paces away, checking over his shoulder to make sure she was alright. Curt blinked for a second before realizing she was going in the same direction as him. 

Huh, odd. 

A list of possible scenarios ran through his head: maybe she had an errand, a date, a family gathering, but none of them really convinced him. His mind kept reaching the same conclusion no matter how hard he tried to get it out of his head: 

_Maybe she is going to kill me._

He tried laughing at himself. This woman, who he had barely seen, killing him? It was almost ridiculous how stupid it sounded. But a spy is suspicious of everyone, and Curt was no exception. 

He kept walking towards his house, deciding to take a different route, just in case. A right instead of a left. A left instead of going straight. Pretty soon, he was pretty sure he had confused the woman, as he was also lost in the city. 

Curt sighed and shook his head. As he kept walking, he glanced at the buildings as he passed, checking to see if he could see his own reflection, and in turn, the woman’s. A few blocks later and he had confirmed that she was no longer tailing him. Good. 

After a few more blocks of walking and a few curses under his breath, Curt was finally in his neighborhood, so to speak. Once he reached his apartment complex, he saw her again. She walked in right as he turned the corner. So, she _had_ been following him. Well, two can play at that game. 

Curt crossed the street as quickly as he could without drawing suspicion to himself. He got into the building’s lobby and looked around. He caught sight of her in an elevator. 

_Okay, Mega, you can do this. Judging by how far up the panel she hit the number that is either a 6, 8, or a 10... Someone reached over to hit a number- That's my neighbor! She’s not on the 8_ _th_ _floor, and she hit closer to the door... Damn it, of course it’s the 10_ _th_ _floor._

Curt rolled his eyes and ran to the stairwell, making a mad dash to the 10th floor of his apartment building. By the time he had reached the top, he was out of breath. He leaned against the wall to compose himself and waited to hear the elevator’s ding. 

_One_

_Two_

_Three_

**_Ding_ **

_Showtime_

Curt walked into the hall, acting like he was leaving. He saw the woman going down the hall and he quickly changed courses, following her instead. She glanced around the hall before stepping into an open door. Curt followed her. 

The room was dark, and there wasn’t a lot of space in it. He reached around for a light switch, but someone grabbed his wrists and tied them behind his back. _Huh, that was quick._

The woman spoke in a rapid, high-pitched French accent. “Who are you, and why are you following me?” 

Curt was stunned for a second by her voice. “You’re not from around here, are you?” 

“Answer the damn question, you sneaky bastard, before I invert your testicles.” 

Curt laughed nervously and shook his head. “Can you at least turn the light on?” 

All the sudden the room was illuminated by a harsh light. Curt blinked rapidly and squinted. “Could you untie me?” 

“Why are you following me?” 

“I thought you were following me!” 

The woman massaged her temples and sighed. “So, you thought that following me was the best solution?” 

Curt shrugged and nodded. “Sure. So... you weren’t following me?” 

The woman gave Curt a look before reaching around him to dim the lights slightly. “No, Curt Mega, I was not.” 

He eyed her suspiciously. “How do you know my name...?” 

The woman’s own auburn eyes glanced over him, not unlike how she observed strangers. “You are the most famous spy in the world, Mega, which makes you quite possibly the worst spy in the world. I recognized you.” 

Curt bit the inside of his cheek and hung his head. 

* * *

“Well, cover isn’t his strong suit.” 

“Then you’ll have no problem keeping the secret for him?” 

“Oh, you know going undercover is _my_ specialty.” 

“Of course I do, Nemo. Stay safe. 

* * *

“Well, I’m good at what I do.” 

The woman’s entire body shook with laughter at that. “Oh, are you?” She took his hands and began gently untying the rope she had used to bind them together with. “I’m Marinette.” 

Curt nodded once and rubbed his wrists once they were free. “Well, this is an awkward situation. Would you like to come back to my apartment for a drink, Miss...?” 

“Marinette will be fine. And my apartment is closer. I’m sure you don’t mind the French’s champagne?” 

* * *

“Well he’s a bloody alcoholic.” 

“You would be too if it weren’t for me, Nemo.” 

“Are you suggesting I help him? Gianna, you’ve gone mad!” 

“Keep the cover, Nini. It’s mandatory.” 

“You’re right, as always. I love you.” 

“I love you too.” 

* * *

Curt took a sip of the glass Marinette handed him and nodded. “I’ve never been a huge fan of champagne. I prefer the heavier drinks myself.” 

Marinette chuckled and rolled her eyes playfully. “I have been told. So, what brings you to the graveyard this time of year, and so frequent?” 

Curt looked down into his glass. “Dead lover. Buried there. It’s been nearly a year.” 

Marinette’s eyes lit up with something, but what, Curt couldn’t exactly tell. 

“I am sorry for your loss. I, too, lost someone. My husband. He is buried there as well. Murdered. I worry the same fate will follow me.” 

Curt hummed in acknowledgement. _I was right, how sad. She seems so innocent- no, she did just tie me up in a closet. She can manage on her own._

Curt took another sip of the champagne, draining the glass. “How long ago?” 

Marinette shook her head. “None of your concern.” 

“But I just want to-” 

“Curt.” 

“Marinette.” 

“Put it out of mind.” She took the glass from him and walked back into her kitchen, leaving him alone in her living room. 

He glanced around, trying to see any pictures that she might have kept of her husband. Oddly enough, all the picture frames in her house were empty, save one. It had a sonogram image in it, and a small caption. _What would have been._ Curt felt like he was intruding on a private memory, so he looked away. 

Marinette came back into the room as he was looking. “Ah, I see you have met my daughter.” 

Curt tilted his head. “I’m sorry?” 

Marinette set the glass of champagne down in front of Curt and gestured at the picture frame. “My daughter. Or, she would have been. I miscarried from the grief of losing my husband. The only comfort I have is knowing she’s safe in his arms now, wherever they are.” She stayed standing and gestured to his glass. “Please, drink.” 

* * *

“Are you sure it’s safe to try?” 

“Nini, you worry too much. I think it’s about time we start a family, don’t you?” 

“You’re right, Gianna.” 

“As usual, love.” 

* * *

Curt set the glass back on the table, his head growing fuzzy with the familiar feeling alcohol usually gave him. He massaged his temples and sat back in the chair. “There must have been more alcohol in that than I thought.” 

Marinette shrugged. “Something like that.” 

Curt felt his breath speeding up. _Something isn’t right._

“Well, Marinette, it has been fun, but I really should be going.” He stood and began walking toward the door. 

Marinette stepped in front of him and placed her hands on his chest. “So soon? Are you sure you are well enough?” 

Curt tried to get around her. She kept her grip on him and she sighed. “I’m sorry.” She then slammed her knee into his stomach, and that was the last thing Curt remembered before he blacked out. 

* * *

“Dead.” 

“No, of course not. It’s just like last time.” 

“Gianna-” 

“He’s not dead. He’ll come back.” 

* * *

Curt woke up tied to a chair in a dark room, Marinette sitting across from him. She was sitting with her legs crossed, and she was smiling at him. He was, to say the least, confused. 

“What happened...?” 

Marinette simply shrugged and stood. “Well, Mega, you’ve finally been captured by someone better than you. Every agent knows not to take food from strangers, you absolute imbecile.” 

Curt mentally scolded himself. “So, you’re an agent too?” 

Marinette smirked evilly. “Of sorts. I’ve only ever had one mission. And I’m about to complete it.” 

“I don’t understand-” 

“I am going to kill you Curt.” 

“But... why?” 

Marinette brought a gun out from her hip and smirked. “Well, because-” 

She cocked the gun and aimed it at his head. “In the wise words of my husband...” 

She snarled at him, and her voice shifted to a posh British accent, just like- 

_“Personal history does have its benefits, Mega.”_

**_Owen._ **

* * *

“Gianna, I don’t have much time-” 

“It’s too dangerous, Nini, you can’t go!” 

“Love, I have to.” 

“Nini-” 

“I’m going.” 

“Nemo-” 

“Gianna, darling-” 

“Owen. Please.” 

“...I’m so sorry.” 

* * *

Gianna cracked her knuckles and sighed. “You’ve caused me a lot of pain, Mega. So, now it’s my turn. Don’t you want to know the _real_ Owen Carvour’s backstory?” 

Curt’s brow furrowed. “I don’t understand...” 

Gianna sighed. “Let’s go back to the very beginning. Before you two had met.” She took a deep breath and began speaking. 

“I was barely a teenager, and Owen was a few years older than me. We were raised by Chimera agents, so it was only natural for us to be inducted into the program once we came of age. Owen and I were the best of friends, which eventually blossomed into something more.” She glanced down at the ring still sitting on her left hand and smiled sadly. 

“He had just turned eighteen. Chimera sent him to join MI6, and he obliged. The constantly being away wasn’t hard for him to take, he had me. I always welcomed home with open arms. He was practically a natural.” Gianna laughed softly and shook her head, brushing her hair out of her face. 

“He quickly rose in their ranks. Everyone at Chimera was proud of him, but that wasn’t good enough. He wanted more. So, he eventually had an idea for what he wanted his lifelong aspiration to be: Tear apart the world's top agencies from the inside out.” 

“Of course,” Gianna paused, clicking her tongue. “That’s a little difficult to do when you can’t join multiple agencies. So, we knew he had to enlist someone to help from the Americans. Enter Agent Curt Mega, a dimwitted rookie. It was almost too perfect. And, the cherry on top, love, was your sexuality. A plan was immediately hatched and put into motion. You fell into place all too willingly. Our only hiccup was, coincidentally, you. That damned banana peel.” She put her hands on her hips and stared directly into Curt’s eyes. 

“Owen was obsessed with finishing the mission. Four years, my entire vocab consisted of ‘come to bed, it’s late, take a break.’ It drove him mad. _You_ drove him mad. And then, finally you were back. Owen, of course, insisted to go after you under yet another cover. It was painful to watch. And then one day, he just didn’t come home. Because, Curt, you killed him. And now I am going to kill you.” 

* * *

“Owen is survived now by his wife, Gianna, and all of Chimera. May he rest in peace.” 

“There’s no peace here.” 

“Ma’am-” 

“He’ll never have his peace. None of you will. To hell with you all.” 

* * *

Curt’s tears had long dried on his cheeks. When he started crying, he wasn’t sure. To think, nearly the last decade of his life was a lie? He had been played like a damn fiddle. He picked up his head and met Marinette’s gaze weakly. “Do it then. I have nothing left to live for.” 

Gianna chuckled. “I know, love. I know. But I do.” She brought the gun to his head and smiled an evil smile. Her mouth was incredibly straight, Curt noticed. She cocked the gun and put her finger on the trigger. 

“Marinette...” 

“It’s Gianna Carvour to you.” 

“Why don’t you take some of your husband’s advice to me? And move on.” 

**_Bang._ **

**Author's Note:**

> ...well
> 
> That happened :)
> 
> A few things:  
> -Owen is a bisexual icon and you can fight me on this  
> -His and Curt's relationship may not have been 100% fake but you didn't hear that from me  
> -Yes, Owen loved Gianna. He's a good guy, a family man.  
> -I just hope the quotes in the middle make sense lmao


End file.
